


Keep Yourself Quiet, Dean

by bovaria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine giving Dean head in a bathroom, and he tries his absolute best to be quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Yourself Quiet, Dean

You felt the corner of your lip quirk up conceitedly, your hand continuing to flutter about Dean’s thigh. From your peripheral view, you could see his fingers flex around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding on. You kept your eyes trained on the road, looking nonchalant as the Impala sped across the interstate.

“Y/N,” Dean said, voice low and full of warning.

“Yeah, baby?” you asked innocently, your hand squeezing his upper thigh as you spoke.

“Sweetheart, I… I don’t want to crash—”

“Are you okay? You’re looking flustered,” with your other hand, you reached over and pressed your palm against Dean’s clammy forehead, feeling smug at just how much your touch was affecting him.

Dean almost swerved off the road as he gritted his teeth at the sensation of your fingers finally landing on his hardened bulge. Your digits squeezed and you had to hold back a moan at how hot and stiff he was.

“Be careful now,” you teased, fingers deftly stroking and gripping tightly through the denim. “Keep your focus on the road. We have to get back to Bobby’s in one piece.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Dean growled.

“Oh,” you moved your hand away and Dean found himself torn between wanting your touch back and relief at not having you distract him from driving. “There’s a gas station right there,” you pointed eastward, where there certainly was a decrepit looking building standing in the middle of nowhere. “I need to go to the bathroom, think you can pull over?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Dean said, giving you a tight smile. How you would go from teasing him mercilessly to wanting to go to the bathroom was beyond him.

He pulled up to the station and you climbed out of the passenger’s seat, sauntering over to his side of the vehicle. Dean shot you a puzzled look, brow shooting up his forehead as you bent down to look at him through the Impala’s window.

“This is quite isolated, care to accompany me to the bathroom like the good boyfriend I know you are?” you winked mischievously and Dean quickly clambered out as he realized at what you were getting at.

The bathroom was unisex and as filthy as roadsides restrooms could get, muck and things beyond your imagination soiling the yellowed, tiled walls. You were making to pull a disgusted expression when Dean’s strong, muscled arms turned you around, his eyes meeting yours. You were taken aback by how dark they looked, the pupils blown wide with lust, but despite your initial surprise, you felt quite proud of making him lose control like this.

“I almost drove off the road because of you,” his hands quested down his body, began to undo the belt he had on. “Baby could have gotten seriously damaged.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” you shrugged, biting your lip.

“On your knees,” he demanded. You felt a surge of excitement rush through you. Very rarely did Dean take charge like this, he was usually gentle and caring, always looking out for your pleasure first.

“Yes, sir,” you smiled, chasing the thought of how dirty the floors where as you knelt, focusing on the tent in Dean’s boxers as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, providing him enough give to widen his stance.

“Don’t talk, _suck_ ,” he commanded, reaching into his underwear and pulling out his dripping, hard cock. Your lips parted and you fought back your gag reflex as Dean began to move forward until the head of his dick was close to hitting the back of your throat. You pressed your tongue to the underside of him, eyes almost crossing at feeling him pulsate, spurting slick into your throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean cursed, head pulling back as he drowned himself in the sensation. Your lips formed a tight ring around his length as you swatted his hand away from the base where he was holding himself. His fingers stroked your cheeks before moving to the back of your head, tangling in your hair.

“S-shit… Sweetheart, f-fuck, that feels so… FUCK!” he exclaimed as you smiled up at him, pulling his cock out of your mouth with an obscene, wet popping sound. You stroked him roughly, fingers squeezing tightly and pausing right before they got to the tip. Your thumb flicked against the purpled head, thumbnail raking against the sensitive slit, prompting a series of expletives to burst from Dean’s mouth.

A knock suddenly resounded and you both froze, eyes flitting to the doorknob. It was locked, Dean had made sure of it. A deep, tired voice asked if everything was alright and you responded with a hoarse yes.

“Better keep quiet, Dean,” you winked flirtatiously at him. He whimpered and bit the inside of his cheek as you went back to work on him, tip of your tongue barely brushing against the most prominent vein running down the shaft. His cock twitched, Dean’s throat closing up before a moan could escape it.

“Y/N,” he whined softly.

“Keep quiet,” you warned, lips wrapping around the head and giving a series of harsh sucks that had Dean’s knees buckling. Somehow, he managed to keep himself up on shaky legs, but his fingers pulled at your hair, urging you to get on with it.

“You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice rising.

“Sh,” you shushed him. Before he could respond, you had become resolved in having him reach his peak in just a few minutes. Your hand stroking the base roughly, pressed the flat of your tongue to the underside as you worked your mouth over him, sucking viciously.

Smirking in glee, you saw Dean slightly tremble, his fingers tightening in your hair and his legs widening his stance. Continuing your ministrations, he only grunted in warning before spurts of hot cum hit the back of your mouth. You held yourself back from gagging, pulling him out and stroking him until you had milked the last of cum from him.

Dean passed you a few sheets of paper towel. You spat into them, balling them up and throwing them into the overfilled trash bin. Dean offered you his hand and you took, letting him pull you up until you were on your feet. Snaking an arm around your waist, Dean cupped your face with his free hand and his thumb rubbed your lower lip, picking up a stray drop of his cum.

“You alright?” he was back to being the caring boyfriend.

“Yeah,” you assured him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s your turn now,” he winked.

“I’d reckon it would be,” you let him press you against the wall as his lips met yours in a fervent, hot kiss.


End file.
